Rampage
by sundaysundaes
Summary: One day, Danny Fenton died. One day, Dan Phantom was born. For ten years, Dan slaughtered millions — billions — and smiled while he did it. For ten years, his rampage reigned. This is that story. Warning for angst and dark themes.
1. Prologue

**Rampage:**  
A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Sunda_y_

_Disclaimer: Butch Hartman and Nickelodeon __own Danny Phantom.__  
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Year Zero, Day Zero:  
Prologue

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Heroes and Villains

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One by one, Danny got each shirt from his closet and folded them into neat squares. He repeated the process with his jeans and the rest of his clothes. All the while, the tears never stopped spilling over his cheeks.

He sniffled, going ghost only to pick off the model rockets that hung from the roof. The image of his father, two years ago, helping Danny put the rockets on the roof for the first time, slashed at his memory. Fresh tears came as he smothered the hundredth sob of the morning.

There would never be any more rockets to hang. No more orange jumpsuit to press against him every morning for a bone-crushing hug. No more philosophical lectures. No more light kisses on his cheek. No more violet eyes to greet him. No more beeping from a PDA. No more lectures about getting his grades up.

No more anything. No more happiness.

Danny's face contorted with pain. He fell into his bare bedspread, letting himself go back to his human self as he pressed his face against the mattress.

He was done packing already, having put all of his Earthly belongings (and even some of the belongings of his family and friends) into ten suitcases and duffel bags. The framed picture of all of the people he loved and held dear was kept safely in his front pocket, away from the dangers it may encounter from outside elements. He'd keep it safe, unlike the real people he'd managed to let down.

His fist smashed against the bed over and over, the relentless tears pouring just as heavily as they had before.

A tender hand caught his wrist before he was able to deliver the fifth blow.

Danny looked her, his mouth set into a watery line. "What?" he asked, his voice cracking with the emotion he hadn't been able to smother in three days.

She bit her lip, staring at him sympathetically. "The cab's waiting out front."

"Oh." Danny rubbed his face, looking away from the social worker who had been assigned to him. He picked himself up and stood weakly, flinging one of the duffel bags on his shoulder. "Okay. I'm ready."

She could tell he wasn't, wasn't ready to leave behind the only place he'd ever called home and had the last remnants of the people he loved. But she had a schedule to keep. If they wanted to make it to Wisconsin by five, they needed to leave already. "Alright," she mumbled, leading the teenager out of the room and down the stairs.

She tried not to stare at the bare walls or the lifeless rooms, knowing it would choke her with an emotion she hadn't allowed herself to feel for any of her cases. Once they reached the living room, she smiled weakly and placed a hand on Danny's shoulder.

"There's a going-away gathering outside. I hope you like it."

Danny shrugged away her hand and shook his head. "I didn't want to see anyone," he muttered angrily, shifting the bag roughly to a more comfortable position. "I just want to _go_."

She put her hand on the door, pursing her lips at him. "Don't you want to see all the people that will be sad you're leaving?"

He glowered at her. "No."

"Well, I can't send them away _now_," she sighed, twisting the knob and opening the door.

Almost immediately, Paulina launched herself at Danny, wringing her arms around his neck. "Oh, Danny!" she cried. "I'm so sorry!"

"Yeah," he answered her, lacking the emotion he would normally have if Paulina had ever dared to even look at him. He didn't even make the effort to put his hands around her slim waist.

After a second, Paulina pulled away from him and stepped back, her brow wrinkling in confusion as to why he wasn't delighting in the fact that she had hugged him. Then, the sight of him seemed to finally register. The tear-stained cheeks, the lack of color, the emotionless eyes, the horrible frown... He wasn't ever going to delight again, not in anything.

Paulina took his hands more sincerely this time, mourning the fact that he didn't blush like he normally would have and the coldness that radiated off of them. "I really _am_ sorry. Nobody should have to go through this."

Danny roughly pulled his hands away, frowning deeper. "Whatever."

Paulina stepped back morosely, allowing the next person—Valerie—to come forward.

"Are you okay?"

He stared at her dryly, his brow raising.

"Sorry, stupid question," Valerie tried to laugh, but it melted away awkwardly. She shook her head, her eyes watering slightly. "I wish you didn't have to go."

"I don't."

She looked at him, half angry. "Why not? Do you _want_ to leave the only place that's always been your home?" She grabbed his hands and lowered her voice. "Don't you want to find the ghostly scum responsible and make them pay for what they did?"

Danny swallowed and closed his eyes, letting a lone tear travel down. He'd already found the ghostly scum responsible for their deaths; he already knew how to make him pay. But he couldn't. The ghostly scum was him. _He'd_ caused all their deaths. He sobbed, tearing his hands away to hide his face.

Valerie stepped back guiltily. She hadn't meant for that reaction. She hadn't meant to make him _cry_. "Gosh, Danny!" she floundered, staring at him desperately. "I didn't mean— I couldn't think— Oh, man! I'm sorry!"

"You don't know what it feels like, Val," he chocked, opening his watery eyes. "It's all my fault."

"No, Danny!" she commanded. "It's not your fault. It'll never be your fault. It's that stupid ghost boy—!"

Danny shook his head. "Please, stop. I can't hear that. I just can't." He pushed past her, avoiding meeting all the eyes of the people who were there to meet him off, and stepped into the waiting cab. He didn't want to see the sympathy he knew they would try to push on him. He didn't want their sympathy; he wanted his life back.

But he knew he was just as powerless to stop their sympathy as he was to resurrect anyone.

A few seconds passed before the social worker opened the passenger door and let herself in. "That wasn't very nice," she scolded lightly, staring at Danny's thrown-back head against the seat.

"I don't care about being nice anymore," he mumbled, his lips barely moving.

She sighed in her capitulation and took out her file on the boy. She scribbled something about his resignation and made a note to have a psychiatrist check on him in a week, to see if he was still detached from others, or if—God forbid—he'd slipped into depression.

She glanced at him one last time before she motioned for the driver to start the engine.

* * *

After helping Danny put all of his things on the driveway of the Masters Mansion, she rung the doorbell and waited until Vlad answered the door.

The billionaire didn't say anything, just stared at her.

She bit her lip and got back inside the cab, whispering to Danny that she'd be back in a week to check in on him.

Danny nodded, acknowledging that he'd heard her but didn't say a single word.

The cab drove off, leaving the two archenemies to stare at each other with equal levels of sadness and resignation. It seemed to hit both of them that there would no longer be anymore fights, anymore harebrained schemes, or even witty banter. They had to move on now and be together in their mourning.

Vlad stepped forward and placed a hand on Danny's shoulder, smiling gently.

His expression didn't change. He fished out the picture he'd had in his pocket and stared at it, memorizing the features of his loved ones for the thousandth time.

Vlad's smile shifted into a frown and his hand slipped away. "Come on, Daniel. Help me bring these things in."

The two went for the load, carrying five bags each as they slipped inside.

Danny had yet to utter a single word.

Vlad bit his lip, straining to think of something—anything—he could do to make the boy smile. Or laugh. Or even just talk, have _some_ semblance that he still had the ability to be a carefree teenager.

A light bulb went off in his head. He put down the suitcases in the foyer and smiled at Danny, already congratulating himself for his inner genius. "You know," he quipped, "I was thinking about getting a cat."

Danny glanced at him. "You don't need to do that. Not for me. Not for anyone."

The forty-year-old was floored. Now what? The teen's expression still hadn't changed. If anything, Vlad's attempt to cheer him up had caused him to close up even more than he already was. "Uh..."

But Danny had already begun to climb the stairs. "I hope my room is where is was last time, because I'm using that one. I'll come get my stuff later."

Vlad swallowed as he stared at the youth. That wasn't the Danny he knew, the one that used to laugh and loved to push his buttons. This new Danny was just a shell of hurt, all his happiness sucked dry.

He frowned sadly, before phasing through the floor and into his lab. There had to be something he could do...

* * *

"Can you do something for me?"

Vlad looked up from his morning newspaper in surprise. "Of course. Anything you need."

Danny looked away uncomfortably, unsure how to convey what he wanted. He shifted nervously. "I—I want you to help me get over the hurt."

Vlad uncoiled himself from his chair and placed his paper aside, giving Danny his full attention as he leaned closer. "Anything I can do, I'll do it."

"You're good with inventing stuff, right?"

Vlad raised an eyebrow warily.

* * *

"Are you sure about this?"

"Positive."

"You know you can just say the word and I'll let you out, right? You don't have to do this. That psychiatrist is coming in a few days, maybe..."

Danny's eyes shifted into glowing green for a second. "I don't _want_ to see a damn shrink! I _want_ you take all the painful, human emotions away. You promised to do it."

"And I will. I'm just not so sure..." Vlad trailed off, clamping the restraints on Danny's legs shut.

"Don't you want to help me?" the teenager asked desperately, his eyes brimming with emotion. He didn't want to pull this card—the trick of playing on his nemesis's _feelings_—but there was no other way; if Vlad got enough words out, Danny knew he wouldn't be able to keep going with his plan, not if it was hurting someone else in the process. Damned hero's complex.

But he needed this. Needed it so desperately the anticipation and fear was eating at his carefully-constructed bravado.

"Of course I want to help you," Vlad whispered. He swallowed and held out an oxygen mask. "Are you _really_ sure about this?"

The young boy nodded.

The older man strapped the oxygen mask on and primped a needle ready for insertion. "If you're sure..." He stuck the needle in Danny's forearm, gently pushing until all the liquid was in his system.

"I'm... positive..." Danny trailed off, his eyelids drooping sleepily as the anesthesia took effect. A few more seconds and he was out cold.

Vlad bit his lip, eying his ward as he continued to secure the metal-clamp restraints across his chest and arms. This wasn't exactly what he'd had in mind when he said he wanted to help the boy, but it was the only option he'd given him. _"Take away the pain. The emotions. You can do that right? Yank them right out of me?"_

"Oh, yeah, Daniel," Vlad sighed frustratingly, cranking up the metal operating table until it was at a standstill, "I can do that." He grunted in exertion as one of the rusty gears refused to budge. "Or at least, I _could _have done that, if you'd given me enough time. Two days is not enough time to build an emotion extractor. It was barely enough time to make those gauntlets."

He spluttered, blinking back his fatigue and sadness. Shaking his head, he hooked up the heart monitor, letting his shoulders fall in slight ease at the rhythmic, beeping tempo.

"We'll be lucky if the those travesties of science _only_ rip apart your emotions." He moved the boy's hair away from his closed eyes, frowning. "And I'm not so sure about your luck, Daniel. We might just rip the very fabric of course and time," Vlad joked.

He put his surgeon's mask into place and slipped on the gloves. "But what's the worse that could happen? Really?"

The universe didn't stir, didn't shift its carefully-set position to acknowledge the middle-aged man's words—or tell him how he should never say those few dastardly words, especially when the life of one of the most powerful beings on Earth rested in his hands.

The resounding beep of the heart monitor continued on its steady course.

The gauntlets glowed a light purple with ectoenergy, ready, as Vlad lifted his hands properly to aim them straight into Danny's heart. Without waiting for a last moment's hesitation, the blades grew from the sharp metal, glowing darker, and the man thrust his hands into the boy's chest, struggling as the gauntlets turned intangible through the soft flesh and hooked something.

This was when the doubts of science started to creep in. _Weren't emotions chemicals in the brain? Couldn't he have just altered the compounds here and there to make the boy happier? Wouldn't it have been easier to just open the kid's brain and extract all those hormones and chemicals, if he was really so hellbent on being an emotionless zombie?_

A bead of sweat collected on Vlad's forehead as he grimaced.

There was nothing he could do now, the gauntlets had hooked _something_. He was going to have to pull it out... whatever_ it_ was.

Settling himself down, Vlad began to pull, even calling forth some of his ghostly strength when he couldn't pull whatever-it-was out of Daniel. It took a few seconds, some more sweat, and more than a handful of tugs, but finally the obstruction gave way.

It knocked Vlad back a couple of feet, eyes closed, as he tried to regain his equilibrium. Shaking his head, he opened his eyes to stare at what the gauntlets had managed to snag.

His eyes widened, terror leaking into them and etching into his every facial line. _Oh no_.

Phantom blinked his eyes open, surprised for half a moment before he glared at his holder. He snarled, ripping the gauntlets—Vlad and all—out of his flesh, leaving two open, glowing lacerations in his chest.

Vlad crashed into the wall, disoriented with surprise and fear. _This couldn't be happening. It wasn't possible._

The ghost continued to glower, the deep cuts on his chest gone and his hands glowing menacingly. His eyes flickered to the gauntlets as they clattered to the ground below him. A maniacal smile—worthy of even the term _malevolent_—spread across his face.

Vlad shook against the wall, finally understanding what had happened. This was what Danny wanted to be—emotionless and without the hurt—but something had gone wrong. All of the emotions must have stayed inside the human Danny, leaving an unmerciful, revenge-seeking ghost for Vlad to yank out. There was no more humanity left in that predatory smile, no more hero for which he could beg forgiveness.

As Phantom drew nearer, Vlad could do nothing but stare. The power which radiated off of him, even when he wasn't using it for an attack, was enough to stun him. He'd always known Danny was strong, but he'd never known he'd been _this_ strong. If he'd had any inkling of an idea, he would have disposed of him when he still had the chance.

Now, there would never be a chance.

Phantom showed Vlad the gauntlets which rested on his hands, grinning madly in a way that split his face in two. He yanked him by the shirt and pulled, easily and without much effort pulling Vlad away from Plasmius. He released the gauntlets from his grip, quickly overshadowing Plasmius before he could regain consciousness.

Then, something went terribly wrong.

Both ghost entities battled for dominance in the one body. Barely taking a backhanded thought, Phantom won, forcing Plasmius to succumb and recede into a dark corner of his mind.

The corner exploded. The evil—pure, hot, tangible _evil_—which leaked out of his every pore stung the younger ghost, sending him into spirals of pain as his skin cracked under the pressure.

It was the earsplitting wail, the beginnings of a much more powerful attack, emanating from the ghost that eventually cracked Danny's metal restraints and sent him clawing into the depths of consciousness. He blinked back his sleepiness, gasping as he saw his ghost half literally screaming himself to pieces, squirming as folds of jade exploded away from him.

Danny started to tremble, scrambling to get the pieces of scrap metal off him so he could escape. Barely managing to get free before a wave of emerald energy smashed into the operating table, the only-human boy curled into a ball behind a whining machine as tears collected in his eyes.

He was still able to feel pain, still able to feel the numb hurt which came from knowing everyone he loved was dead, still able to feel the fear chocking him as he watched Phantom's hair flame and eyes give out. Obviously, he was still as emotionally bound as he'd been just one hour prior—even a slight anger at Vlad was a sick reminder of the fact.

But that—that...

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That was past, and there nothing in the entire world that Phantom hated if not _past_.

Memory washed over him as his throat constricted, effectively cutting off the shriek that had been emanating from him. Like a disjointed entity, images greeted him, playing like a movie behind his eyelids. Birthdays. School. His friends. His family.

No. He didn't have friends or family. _He_ didn't. It was... it was...

"You!" Phantom gasped, catching sight of a young boy curled at the corner of the room. He tilted his head curiously for a moment, spell-bound as he tried to recall where the boy fit his memory. With a wave of fresh anger, he realized it was his old self—human, puny, defenseless... useless. A part of a past he no longer wished to be a part of.

Danny stared back at Phantom, terrified, shaking.

Phantom licked his newly-formed fangs with a forked tongue, letting his anger simmer beneath blue-tinted flesh, allowing his periphery to catch sight of the destruction that littered the floor. Metal scraps of various sizes were hazardously sticking up from the floor or along the walls of the lab, its destruction bringing a delighted smirk to play on the ghost's lips.

When Danny's cry pierced through the cheerful environment Phantom had created, having tried to squirm away but landing in the remains of a wrecked machine, the ghost's eyes snapped back to the human. He hissed, new blood-red eyes narrowing.

Danny flinched away from the sound, burrowing deeper into the wires to try and escape the onslaught he knew was coming. His parents were dead, and no one would come and rescue him. His eyes stung as a few pale tears ran down the hollow of his cheeks.

Phantom wrinkled his nose in disgust, eying the tears. "Pathetic," he spit, revulsion coating his voice. He called forth some of his power, solidifying it into a blast that could easily kill the human trembling before him. He smiled, emerald enery casting his face in shadows.

Danny's eyes widened, and pushed himself farther from the ghost. His back hit the wall, and he whimpered. "Please," he whispered, knowing exactly what Phantom was thinking behind that hostile grin. "Don't."

Phantom raised an eyebrow, continuing to smile as if the evident fear rolling off the boy was nothing but an errant thought. "It's not like you can stop me."

Without another thought toward the conversation, Phantom let his blast fly forward and impact with the soft flesh of the human.

Danny didn't have enough time to register anything other than the unbridled agony that exploded over his body. He tried to scream and move away, but it was too late. Around the horrible coat of pain, black danced in his vision for half a second. He couldn't hold on; he fell into the never-ending darkness.

Phantom's maniacal laugh stabbed the air, and he called for more powerful blasts to fling randomly at the room. Soon enough, spectral flames sprung into existence, enveloping the laboratory responsible for his creation at all sides.

His onslaught didn't last long, however. Disinterest washed over him in a roll, and the jumping fire that clung to walls and seeped through the ceiling wasn't nearly as bright as it had been when he started. Watching the body be engulfed by the fire as fresh combustible was mildly amusing, but only caused Phantom to excitedly raise his eyebrows for a moment before he remembered the human was already dead, and the sounds coming off of the blaze were nothing that were a reason for enthusiasm.

Sighing, his eyes trailed to the corner of the room—and his breath hitched in his throat.

Two indigo irises stared back at him, slightly crinkled from the smiling face that pulled at her lips.

Without thinking, ignoring the flames the lapped from their various spots, Phantom floated towards the picture, hand-outstretched. When he touched the singed paper, both hands curled into a fists and green energy bobbed from his fingertips.

Abruptly angrier than he had ever been, Phantom blasted the smiling face of Madeline Fenton, creating a gaping hole in the metal wall behind the frame. He shrieked wildly, and continued to destroy the rest of the house, flipping furniture and tearing luxuries to shreds. Somewhere in the middle of his chaos, his irate shrieks turned into manic laughter and the flames he had created caught whiff of the central heating gauge.

Shaking his head, laughter making him deranged and wild, he flew through the roof of the mansion, phasing past the debris that flew out as the building denoted in a flurry of wild reds and greens. Sparring another chuckle yet not even a glance behind him, Dan Phantom took to the skies and aimed towards Amity Park, his laughter and the beginnings of his rampage shinning behind him.

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_Day Zero: the day a hero died, and a villain was born._


	2. Year 1, Day 1

_*Edited. Darn you typos!_

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_A/N: Blandness and boring-ness in the beginning of this chapter. Tread carefully and read all connotations. (He-he. Big word. :P)  
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_Warning for gore, but not terrifyingly descriptive gore. My first real shot at it, tell me how I got it._

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Year 1, Day 1

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Eye of the Beholder

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He stared at the wreck that was the Nasty Burger, fangs glinting softly as he admired the charred building and broken remnants of the old fast food joint. A small smirk appeared on his face and his eyes closed for half a second as he imagined the powerful colors of the explosion. The memory scratched at his mind, sending him back to where he could remember the light, spicy tang that floated in the air from the Nasty Sauce, sweetly coated with the incense of coppery blood and burning flesh.

He could remember the screams that had cut off abruptly, while his own continued to fill the air with chocking sobs and tears. The heat of the red, almost white-blue, flame had licked at his skin, making him flinch and nose wrinkle from the smell of smoke, blood, flesh, and despair. As he heard the memory of the sirens in his ears, he opened his red eyes, a soft sigh of content escaping him.

He spent a few more minutes on the ruined property, remembering all the individual details his old self—weak, human, and emotionally-bound as he was—had quietly repressed. They were thrilling—the screams, the tests, the police, the lights, the never-receding smoke—but soon, the carnage started to bore him. Nothing to do with it; only a memory.

Dan looked up at the crescent moon, his smirk shifting into a scowl. He didn't even understand why he was so drawn to a place where he'd already been, to something he'd already done and experienced. It didn't make sense, but he'd flown there anyway.

He rolled his eyes. Next thing he knew and he was probably going to start flying to FentonWorks—right, ridiculous.

His head involuntarily rolled to the side, the thought erasing his more reasonable mindset. Maybe he'd find something of importance there. Maybe...

Twin smokes of red ran down his nostrils.

His eyes narrowed, a growl building itself in his throat as his gaze trailed every nook and cranny of the empty streets. Now was not the time for him to deal with some incompetent, low-life nuisance of a ghost which would probably just destroy random buildings and stores...

The thought jumbled around in his head, making him uncomfortable. Some _ghost_ was _not_ going to destroy the town _he_ was meant to demolish—that was _his_ right, and his right _alone_.

His fist clenched and he stood, straining his vision and hearing to try and find (and later destroy) the spook which had dared haunt his town.

It wasn't long before he was able to see the ghost—the _Box Ghost_, to be precise—and his pursuer. A small flash of surprise overtook him as he stared at her from the distance, eying her weapon and familiar red suit with distaste.

"Get back here, creep!" she shouted, hot on the Box Ghost's trail. "Hold still so I can blast you!" She shot, hitting her target in the _dairy aire_ perfectly.

The Box Ghost yelped, pausing for a moment to grab his hurt bottom with both hands, shooting Valerie an expression half-between a pout and a glare. "You'll pay for that, human!"

"Not before I destroy you," Valerie laughed, aiming her weapon dangerously close (and only getting closer) to the ghost.

Dan snorted, catching the attention of both hunter and hunted as he shook his head. Both gasped as he stepped out of the shadows and under a street lamp, his heels clicking softly on the asphalt.

"Ph-Ph-Phantom?" Valerie stuttered, lowering her weapon unconsciously as she leaned away.

"Hello, Valerie," he answered easily, moving to brush away some imaginary dust from his shoulder. He glanced at the Box Ghost. "Don't tell me you're having trouble with _him_. Would've thought the town's 'best' ghost hunter would be able to deal with him quite easily."

"Hey!" the small ghost intoned, waving his hands. "The human and you—ghost child—should _fear me!_ Beware!"

Dan smirked, walking calmly to the ghost's side with exaggerated movements. "But why should _I_ fear _you_?" He grinned, delighting at how the ghost shuddered at his new fangs and expression. "I could so easily destroy you."

The whir of a charging weapon brought his face back up to Valerie.

"I always knew you were evil," she grumbled. "Now, with your new look, you won't be able to fool the town anymore. They'll see the truth. And I'll be the first—right here, right now—to make you pay for what you have done."

He hissed at her, emerald power curling into existence around his form. "I'd like to see you _try_."

She grimaced at the challenge, aimed, and fired.

He had time to lazily raise an eyebrow before he swiftly materialized a green shield, which easily took the blast.

The Box Ghost, behind Phantom as the debris and smoke drifted away, floated farther away from ghost child—or, at least, what he thought was the ghost child. He wasn't so sure anymore. He'd heard from Technus that the kid's family had all perished in a horrible accident, so maybe that had something to do with it. Either way—he was pretty positive now, the more he looked at him and observed his movements—that wasn't the child he loved to torture and tease.

He gulped, shaking as he caught sight of the hallowed-in red eyes and flaming hair. The kid—it was obvious he wasn't ever going to be the good guy again. And in a strange sort of way, that knowledge greatly saddened (as well as terrified) the Box Ghost. He turned to go back home, having seen enough.

"Where do you think _you're_ going?"

The Box Ghost flinched, peeking at Phantom cautiously. "I—ah—nowhere?" he squeaked, his earlier enthusiasm completely gone.

"Nowhere," Dan breathed back, a sickening smile curling his face. He snorted a laugh. "Nowhere? _Really?_" His expression abruptly changed, the smile being slammed down by the thick line of his mouth and his suddenly dead eyes. "But you're right. You are not going anywhere—not until I finish destroying you. _Piece. By. Piece._"

The tiny ghost gaped and stumbled backwards, if that was even possible while floating in air. His mouth moved ahead of him, incomprehensible words pushing past his throat but having no meaning as his erratic fear exploded across his body.

Mercifully (the only mercy Dan intended there to be left in the world after he was through with it), a sharp crimson blast shot into Phantom's side, giving the Box Ghost a split second to dash off in the direction of the Ghost Zone, shouting a shaky "Beware!" over his shoulder.

Immediately recovering from the surprise attack, Dan glared at Valerie, both hands twitching as he repressed the feeling to wrap them around her neck. To feel the thrumming of her pulse. To know that if he pressed just hard enough, just long enough, the steady tempo of her blood would slow until it stopped completely.

But a swift death was too good for this certain piece of human garbage. He wanted to make her suffer, not just for the unexpected blast or for ruining his first night of intended destruction, but for being part of his human past, for all of those things he couldn't quite remember but knew—just _knew_—that she was responsible for.

"How's your father, Valerie?" Dan ground out, red eyes narrowing as the plan materialized in his head. "Sleeping soundly at home, I hope?"

Valerie tensed, the pistol curled in her grip currently forgotten as she gazed back at Dan blankly, uncomprehending, fearing, what he was getting at. "I... Daddy... m-my d-da..." The words wouldn't make it past her numb lips, her mind jumping incomprehensibly in jarring circles. "Wha... what are you...?"

Dan let the smallest of smiles grace his face. "I was hoping for bigger game on my first night back in town," he said conversationally, starting to casually float away from Valerie's dazed form, "but your dad might have to do. I think I'll pay him a little mid-night visit."

Her reaction was sluggish at best. She blinked from behind her hunter's mask, head unconsciously tilting to the side as the thought struggled to connect. _Visit? Dad?_ Finally, after an eternal second or two had passed, the thought became clear. _Phantom's gonna visit my dad._

Valerie blinked again, unsure how to feel. There was almost an audible _click_ as her head connected with the meaning of those words. Her eyes widened and a bolt of fear snapped into her brain. _"Phantom's going to visit my dad!"_ she shrieked into the air, clinking her heels together to reactivate her jet sled to chase Phantom on the way to her house.

A quick sweep of the street showed that Dan was already long gone. She cursed under her breath and soared into the sky, pushing her sled's limits in her beeline for home. _Daddy... I won't let him hurt you._ Determination crossing her features, momentarily halting her fear and panic, she pushed a little faster.

When she flew into her open window, not bothering to slow as she raced out the door and to the living room, there was no sign of the ghost. Valerie swallowed as she finally stopped to hover over her couch, heart racing a million miles per minute and mouth dry. Her eyes hadn't adjusted yet but she nevertheless scoped the area. She licked her lips. "Dad?" she called out shakily, jumping off her sled and taking off her helmet.

A low, pained moan from the direction of his bedroom was the only response she received.

She ran across the room in a heartbeat, wrapping her hand around the knob to his door for a second-too-long before steadying herself and waking inside. She flipped on the light switch automatically.

She gasped.

There, on the floor next to his bed, laying in a pool of his own blood, twitching and moaning with spasms of pain, was her father. And there, about a foot next to him, layered with a nice level of crimson, still gorily attached to the optic nerve, was his severed eyeball.

Valerie's breath rasped in her throat—once, twice—as she stared at the macabre of blood and body for her third ragged breath. She inhaled deeply—and screamed.

* * *

Dan smiled as the ambulance and police cars thundered down the street and towards Valerie's apartment complex. The screeching of rubber halting on asphalt made his smile grow, watching the humans scramble with a stretcher with mild amusement.

His left hand glittered softly in the moonlight, coated in the sweet blood of Damon Gray. His gaze drifted towards his hand, the smile stretching farther along the lines of his face. He let curls of emerald energy appear on his hand, enjoying the sounds of the blood fizzing and popping as it evaporated into nothing and coated the air with a very familiar smell.

Dan closed his eyes, letting the aroma waft around him in light waves. His highly-sensitive ears twitched and his eyes opened slowly as the clock above City Hall tolled and rang, signaling to the citizens of Amity Park the start of a new day.

His mood didn't shimmer away from its peaceful state, still watching the humans crawling on the streets, completely unaware that another day had passed them by. That tomorrow—today—had already started and was slowly churning their lives away from them.

Dan shifted into invisibility, still smiling, the intoxicating perfume of burning blood traveling behind him in a ghostly trail, as he made his way towards Casper High School to wait for the humans to begin another day. One that he had already started.

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_Day One: the day a villain realized he could be content by watching the destruction of others flashing behind his eyes._

* * *

_This continues to be a Danny Phantom FanFiction by Sunday._

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_Review._


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